Post by psi on Nov 9, 2005 9:16:33 GMT -5
The camera feed fades in to show a dimly-lit parking lot, which is kept in view only by the street lights. There are few cars in sight, and the background is dominated by a large building with the letters H-W-A running down the side of the double-swing doors. In front of the doors stands the same man that was inside the building only a week ago: Roy Chambers. He wears the same clothes with the same rose-red sunglasses. However, he is wearing something different tonight: a smile. The broad smirk stretches across his face, almost mockingly, as he looks up to the night sky with his hands in his pockets. He takes notice of the camera and licks his lips, obviously having gone through this speech several times in his head.
So here we are, night three of the tournament, and I still stand as tall as I did when I came into this promotion. Some may call my victory over Pryme Tyme an upset, but I prefer to think of it as a valuable plot twist. I came in as a Number Twelve Seed, whatever that means, and beat a veteran in this business. Since then I seem to have been forced into the role of a Mr. Cinderella, a title which I’m not so sure I like. See, I don’t think what I did is some great underdog struggle. I’m not battling against the odds here. The simple fact is that I am better than Pryme Tyme, and I’m better than most in this tournament. I’m not an underdog, I’m an unknown, for now. But, now that people have seen what I can do, I think it’s fair to assume that I am no longer an X Factor, but something much more dangerous, a legitimate threat. I’ve proven to everyone, everywhere I go, that I am good enough to be around the best in their promotions, and good enough to beat them. And that is what I’m doing here. This tournament is just a means for me to spread the name of Roy Chambers, to ensure that I’m whispered on the lips of fans throughout the country, until the murmur of my name is so deafening that there will be no choice but to remove the shades that have polarized the light from my shining star, and truly let myself be heard.
Chambers starts taking steps forward, dragging his fingers along the side of the car, streaking dust and the dew from last nights rain storm. He cocks his head towards the camera as a passing bus bathes the right half of his body in a white light.
So now, fresh off my victory over Jobber #1, I am faced with a new opponent: Steve Castle. I don’t know that much about him, but from the tapes I’ve seen I can tell that he’s nothing I can’t handle. Sure he may be a little quicker than me. He may be more physically fit than I am, but I’ve never been one to rely completely on my physical attributes, as impressive as they may be. No, I’m the best because I am a thinking man. I am, perhaps the greatest wrestling tactician in the game. When I go into every match, I go in with a plan, as should everyone. But I also have a strategy. I know how to get under people’s skin. I know how to shake them from their comfort zone and force them to wrestle a match where I make the rules, I set the pace, and I control the tempo. I’m not the strongest wrestler, I’m not the fastest wrestler, I’m the smartest wrestler. And Steve Castle is going to find this out very soon, as will all of you.
The Heartbreaker stops as he reaches a chain link fence that separates the parking lot from the busy street. He places one hand on the chains and looks up at the barbed wire, having memories of brutal matches past rush through his head. To anyone else, these objects may hold little significance. But to someone such as Roy Chambers, they are a constant reminder that power lies not in the weapon, but in the person wielding them.
I consider myself a pure wrestler. Someone who is in this sport not for the fame and glory that leaves so many other athletes thunderstruck, but because I love the “sport” of professional wrestling. I don’t dilute my passion with thoughts of money and stardom, because my soul is sewn into the canvas so deeply that I can’t force myself to be torn from it. I have been through some truly sickening matches that have drained my blood and energy, and left me so weak I needed help to even stand on shaking legs. But through it all I knew it would be worth it because...well, sometimes I’m not entirely sure why I do it. Sometimes I wake up too sore to get out of bed, with my hair matted down from sweat and blood, and my heart still pounding a furious rhythm in my chest. I manage to fight through the pain of getting up and I look at myself in the mirror, with bloodshot eyes from the five hours of actual sleep I got the night before, and in a brief moment of weakness I question my sanity. I ask myself why I put up with something that takes so much. But then I sit down and I watch some of my old wrestling tapes, anything from Dory Funk Jr. Vs Jack Brisco back in the old NWA days to CM Punk vs Chris Hero no less than a few years ago, and I am reminded of why I spend so much to be a part of this business. It’s for the thrill of being in the ring and putting on the best damn show possible, it’s because in the back of my mind I know that I am contributing to the same great wrestling legacy that has been passed down from guys like Pat O’Conner and Gorgeous George to guys like me and Steve Twist.
Roy Chambers hangs on these thoughts for a moment before bringing himself back to the present and to more pressing matters. His thoughts make the great leap from himself to Steve Castle, who has proven himself to be a cause for concern, if not alarm. Roy walks along the fence, finally coming to an opening. He steps out onto the sidewalk. There is no one else in sight, and the camera man struggles to keep pace with his larger subject. Roy does not break his stride. He seems almost as if he is in a dream-like state.
The stage is set, the pressure is on, and the chips are down. I’m going to come into this match fully prepared and ready. I only hope, for his sake, that Steve Castle can say the same. Because, if he can’t, I’m not going to beat him, I’m going to dominate him.
The smirk that has been across Roy Chambers’ face all this time still glimmers on his face, putting himself at ease with the knowledge that he has come so far, and that he is always willing to take the next step. His eyes also tell a story, though they are masked by the rose-red sunglasses. They tell a story of a man who is so full of passion that he is willing to do anything to quench his appetite for the sport that he loves so much. For him glory lies not in the victories nor in the defeats, but in the battle that rages in the ring every single night. This is the last message that is conveyed to the crowd as the feed fades to black....
So here we are, night three of the tournament, and I still stand as tall as I did when I came into this promotion. Some may call my victory over Pryme Tyme an upset, but I prefer to think of it as a valuable plot twist. I came in as a Number Twelve Seed, whatever that means, and beat a veteran in this business. Since then I seem to have been forced into the role of a Mr. Cinderella, a title which I’m not so sure I like. See, I don’t think what I did is some great underdog struggle. I’m not battling against the odds here. The simple fact is that I am better than Pryme Tyme, and I’m better than most in this tournament. I’m not an underdog, I’m an unknown, for now. But, now that people have seen what I can do, I think it’s fair to assume that I am no longer an X Factor, but something much more dangerous, a legitimate threat. I’ve proven to everyone, everywhere I go, that I am good enough to be around the best in their promotions, and good enough to beat them. And that is what I’m doing here. This tournament is just a means for me to spread the name of Roy Chambers, to ensure that I’m whispered on the lips of fans throughout the country, until the murmur of my name is so deafening that there will be no choice but to remove the shades that have polarized the light from my shining star, and truly let myself be heard.
Chambers starts taking steps forward, dragging his fingers along the side of the car, streaking dust and the dew from last nights rain storm. He cocks his head towards the camera as a passing bus bathes the right half of his body in a white light.
So now, fresh off my victory over Jobber #1, I am faced with a new opponent: Steve Castle. I don’t know that much about him, but from the tapes I’ve seen I can tell that he’s nothing I can’t handle. Sure he may be a little quicker than me. He may be more physically fit than I am, but I’ve never been one to rely completely on my physical attributes, as impressive as they may be. No, I’m the best because I am a thinking man. I am, perhaps the greatest wrestling tactician in the game. When I go into every match, I go in with a plan, as should everyone. But I also have a strategy. I know how to get under people’s skin. I know how to shake them from their comfort zone and force them to wrestle a match where I make the rules, I set the pace, and I control the tempo. I’m not the strongest wrestler, I’m not the fastest wrestler, I’m the smartest wrestler. And Steve Castle is going to find this out very soon, as will all of you.
The Heartbreaker stops as he reaches a chain link fence that separates the parking lot from the busy street. He places one hand on the chains and looks up at the barbed wire, having memories of brutal matches past rush through his head. To anyone else, these objects may hold little significance. But to someone such as Roy Chambers, they are a constant reminder that power lies not in the weapon, but in the person wielding them.
I consider myself a pure wrestler. Someone who is in this sport not for the fame and glory that leaves so many other athletes thunderstruck, but because I love the “sport” of professional wrestling. I don’t dilute my passion with thoughts of money and stardom, because my soul is sewn into the canvas so deeply that I can’t force myself to be torn from it. I have been through some truly sickening matches that have drained my blood and energy, and left me so weak I needed help to even stand on shaking legs. But through it all I knew it would be worth it because...well, sometimes I’m not entirely sure why I do it. Sometimes I wake up too sore to get out of bed, with my hair matted down from sweat and blood, and my heart still pounding a furious rhythm in my chest. I manage to fight through the pain of getting up and I look at myself in the mirror, with bloodshot eyes from the five hours of actual sleep I got the night before, and in a brief moment of weakness I question my sanity. I ask myself why I put up with something that takes so much. But then I sit down and I watch some of my old wrestling tapes, anything from Dory Funk Jr. Vs Jack Brisco back in the old NWA days to CM Punk vs Chris Hero no less than a few years ago, and I am reminded of why I spend so much to be a part of this business. It’s for the thrill of being in the ring and putting on the best damn show possible, it’s because in the back of my mind I know that I am contributing to the same great wrestling legacy that has been passed down from guys like Pat O’Conner and Gorgeous George to guys like me and Steve Twist.
Roy Chambers hangs on these thoughts for a moment before bringing himself back to the present and to more pressing matters. His thoughts make the great leap from himself to Steve Castle, who has proven himself to be a cause for concern, if not alarm. Roy walks along the fence, finally coming to an opening. He steps out onto the sidewalk. There is no one else in sight, and the camera man struggles to keep pace with his larger subject. Roy does not break his stride. He seems almost as if he is in a dream-like state.
The stage is set, the pressure is on, and the chips are down. I’m going to come into this match fully prepared and ready. I only hope, for his sake, that Steve Castle can say the same. Because, if he can’t, I’m not going to beat him, I’m going to dominate him.
The smirk that has been across Roy Chambers’ face all this time still glimmers on his face, putting himself at ease with the knowledge that he has come so far, and that he is always willing to take the next step. His eyes also tell a story, though they are masked by the rose-red sunglasses. They tell a story of a man who is so full of passion that he is willing to do anything to quench his appetite for the sport that he loves so much. For him glory lies not in the victories nor in the defeats, but in the battle that rages in the ring every single night. This is the last message that is conveyed to the crowd as the feed fades to black....
